


click

by goorgoahead



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: 75 Dates In The Skam Universe, M/M, Photographs, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-10 08:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19498252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goorgoahead/pseuds/goorgoahead
Summary: 75 Dates in The Skam Universe73. Shooting Photosorniccolò has a camera. martino is his preferred model, willing or not.





	click

**Author's Note:**

> so i’m really excited to be a part of the 75 Dates in The Skam Universe collection that ‘underthesunlight’ (‘theskamlibrary’ on tumblr) is putting together. 
> 
> i’m not overly happy with how this turned out but that’s always the case when i’m writing from a prompt so there’s not much i can do about it.
> 
> my tumblr is ‘butforwardiscalling’

_click_

they were in martino’s room. both of them were supposed to be studying, but it seems like martino is the only one who is having any sort of success in doing that.

_click_

“babe, what was that?” martino asks niccolò, who is sitting behind him, on the bed, as martino worked at the desk.

“just clicked my pen,” niccolò says.

martino doesn’t bother turning around, still almost completely immersed in his latin homework.

“didn’t sound like a pen,” martino says, distractedly, not really caring either way.

“strange,” niccolò says and they leave it at that.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_click_

the boys are in the bar, today. they’re playing table football, two on two, martino and gio vs luca and elia, of course. niccolò is sitting at the bar behind them, waiting his turn.

“hey, this isn’t fair; those two can basically read each other’s minds!”

“luca, would you ever quit complaining and focus on the game?” elia snaps at luca, who grumbles but shuts up.

_click_

“dude, did you hear that,” giovanni asks. “i think the table might be broken or something.”

martino chances a glance back at niccolò, who has his hands in his lap where martino can’t really see them. martino narrows his eyes at him but says nothing. niccolò just smiles back at him sweetly.

“hah yeah right! you’re just saying that so you can blame the table when you lose.”

“shut it, elia, you’re gonna eat those words.”

and the noise was forgotten.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_click_

martino was in his kitchen, cooking with his mama, as niccolò watched from the doorway. nico is banned from participating from any and all culinary pursuits since the ‘carbonara incident’ but watches martino and his mama manoeuvre around the small kitchen, passing ingredients back and forth between them.

_click_

mama rametta turns first at the noise, and smiles back at niccolò when she sees him doing whatever it is that he’s doing. when martino turns, he sees nico holding a camera. of course, thinks martino.

niccolò’s mama bought him a camera for his birthday a few weeks ago and ever since he started uni he’s been looking for the chance to use it. it seems that niccolò has indeed found some opportunities to do so. but martino has yet to see any of the photos that niccolò has taken.

right now, niccolò has the camera held up around chest level, with that innocent smile on his face again. and martino almost asks (read: demands) to see the photos he’s been taking of martino, but he doesn’t. martino assumes that, much like with his art and the stories he comes up with, the photos are private, only shared occasionally, and with people he trusts. he knows that niccolò will show him the photos eventually, when he wants or feels he needs to, but martino is getting impatient and a little annoyed.

martino says nothing in this moment though. he just rolls his eyes and goes back to cooking.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_click_

martino is in bed, not sleeping yet but trying. he and nico had decided to take a quick nap after school before getting ready for a party filippo is throwing later. in fact, he was about so drop off to sleep when he feels niccolò shift beside him.

_click_

he opens his right eye a crack to look at niccolò. he’s kneeling near martino, where he had been lying a few seconds previous. and he had that infernal camera in his hands.

“what are you doing with that damn camera?” he asks. his voice is sleepy and there is no real malice in the question; he only says it because he is tired and genuinely wanted to sleep. it was friday and martino had had a long and difficult week, and wanted nothing more than to get some rest before going out with his friends later.

“sorry, baby,” niccolò says, smiling, which softens martino’s mood a little, “but you look beautiful when you sleep.”

martino is only human, and this, of course, melts his heart completely. niccolò is sat beside him with a dopey ‘i’m-in-love’ kind of grin on his face, and martino feels his annoyance at being woken up dissipate by the second.

“you’re such a sap,” martino says fondly, pushing himself up on his elbows, “well, come on then. are you going to show me these photos you’ve been taking or what?”

“hmm,” niccolò says, tapping the side of his chin, as if he was thinking about the question, “no, i don’t think so. not yet, at least.”

and martino is back to being slightly peeved off again.

“suit yourself, then,” he says and turns away slightly, and tries to get to sleep.

like he said, martino knows that niccolò will show him the photos eventually, but his patience is wearing thin. he is not quite loving the idea of being an unsuspecting photography model anymore, if he ever did in the first place. he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply; for right now, for tonight, for the sake of his sanity and his and niccolò’s relationship, he lets it go.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_click_

that only lasts for so long.

they’re on the balcony in niccolò’s apartment, sitting together in tranquil silence as the sun begins to set on rome. it’s such a relief to be able to relax like this now that school has finished for the summer. martino has his eyes half closed, dozing in the evening sun, a golden light bathing his face in warmth.

_click_

he opens his eyes to see niccolò’s bright features being obscured slightly by his camera again. he lowers the camera when he sees that martino is now fully awake. he looks like a kid that had been caught stealing sweets.

“sorry baby,” is what he says to accompany this look.

“what are you apologising for?” martino asks.

niccolò looks down at his camera sheepishly, avoiding martino’s eye-line.

“well,” he says, “i know you don’t like it when i take your photo.”

martino feels terrible. he feels guilty. martino knows he was being selfish, letting his annoyance at not being allowed to see the pictures make niccolò feel bad about his art, and with whom and when and if he shares it. martino was so worried about being left out that he forgot that it wasn’t about him.

he knows niccolò’s art is how he filters the world around him, how he interprets it. martino pressuring him about seeing the pictures and making feel like he can’t take his photo is rude and selfish and martino feels unbelievable bad.

he doesn’t know how to tell all of this to niccolò without sounding condescending. so he doesn’t say it at all.

instead he sits up full and pulls niccolò into a hug, camera still held in his hand and is now pressing uncomfortably into martino’s chest, but he ignores it in favour of pressing quick kisses against the side of niccolò’s neck. with one final kiss to niccolò’s shoulder, martino pulls back from the hug and looks at niccolò.

“don’t mind me baby,” martino says quietly, “i actually love being a model. filippo uses me for his photography projects all the time.”

niccolò laughs at this, and martino feels a little better.

“you can take as many pictures of me as you want, baby. and you don’t ever need to show me if you don’t want.”

niccolò smiles, but says nothing. instead, he gets up out of his chair and goes inside. he returns a few seconds later, holding a box. the box is unremarkable, grey in colour, and if martino had seen it lying around the apartment, he would have assumed that it was a shoebox or something.

when niccolò sits down, he opens the box to reveal what looks like hundreds of photographs. he hands the box to martino, who shifts the photos around.

there are some of the boys; of giovanni and elia playing football together, faces determined and covered in grass stains from the pitch, of luca smiling directly at the camera, covered in that colourful powder from a couple of weeks ago, of all of them, excluding niccolò, huddled around the table football table in the bar, mid laugh. there of some of the girls too; of eva, fede and silvia all dressed up, talking amongst themselves outside a party, the lights hanging up around them casting beautiful colours on their faces, of eleonora and edoardo dancing at what was probably the same party, surrounded by lots of other people yet they were the only ones in focus, of sana, standing alone, deep in thought, face pensive and beautiful. there are a couple of niccolò’s parents as well; of them dancing around their kitchen, faces lit up with laughter.

but mostly, there is martino; of him with the boys, of him with his mother, of him alone. he is not looking at the camera in any of them, unlike a couple of the other people in the photos. he’s always looking away, laughing or smiling or concentrating on his homework.

martino’s heart melts a little at every photo he looks through. but he notices something, something that’s missing. in all of the hundreds of pictures in this box, there is not a single, solitary photograph of niccolò. his niccolò, who can light up a room with his smile. this makes martino’s heart hurt.

“these are amazing nico,” martino says, not looking up, “but something’s missing.”

“is that right?”

martino doesn’t answer. instead, he reaches forward and takes the camera from niccolò’s hands. martino holds the camera up to his eye and focuses on niccolò’s now smiling face.

_click_

“that’s better.”

niccolò laughs. he looks beautiful.

_click_

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! my tumblr is ‘butforwardiscalling’. come say hey


End file.
